Volume II and a Half: A Princess Predicament
by IceCreamGurl6455
Summary: What happened between volumes II and III? Volume II and 1/2, of course! With her mom and Mr. G on their honeymoon, Kenny's unwelcome advances, and a horrible substitute algebra teacher -not to mention Grandmère's new schemes-, Mia is really in trouble this time.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the book series "The Princess Diaries" by Meg Cabot, nor will I ever. I do not own any characters or settings you recognize, and I do not profit from this in any way. "A Princess Predicament" is a story written by me (IceCreamGurl6455), purely for my own entertainment and the entertainment of others. No part of this story can be duplicated, quoted, or replicated without my permission and proper citation. Thank you for understanding the terms on which this story was and continues to be written. I appreciate your time and thank you in advance for complying by my personal standards, rules, and international laws.

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><p><em>Sunday November 2, 1:25 AM<br>The armchair in Lilly's room_

Okay, I know I shouldn't be writing this late. I mean, I could hardly keep my eyes open through Dirty Dancing, which, as you know, is pretty much my favorite movie of all time. Not even when Lilly went off on a rant about Johnny's objectifying of women, which usually gets at least bit of a response from me.

Plus, I think my fever came back a little.

Then, I looked at the clock and saw that it was past 11, which explained everything. After Rocky Horror and the almost-wedding yesterday, not to mention agreeing to date _Kenny Showalter,_ I was completely wiped out.

And here I am, almost an hour and a half later, totally and completely awake.

I have no idea how I'm supposed to fall asleep! I don't want to take any more cough medicine, since then I will probably die of an overdose, whenever I finally get to sleep. I already tried counting sheep. Maybe if I tried repeating all of those algebra formulas Mr. G and Michael keep trying to get me to remember...

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><p><em>1:27 AM<br>Still the armchair in Lilly's room_

I can't believe this: I don't remember any of the formulas they taught me!

I'm not joking. My mind is blank. Could selective amnesia be a side effect of having a fever and taking cough medicine?

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><p><em>1:31 AM<br>Laying down on Lilly's floor in my sleeping bag and holding this diary up to the window for some light_

I think I am just going to close my eyes for now. If I'm still up in twenty minutes, don't worry, I'll be back.

Did I really just use a quote from _The_ _Terminator _in my diary?

God, I am the lamest princess **ever**!

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><p><em>7:39 AM<br>Sitting at the Moscovitzes'kitchen table_

So, I ended up falling asleep last night.

And then, I woke up at 5:25 because Pavlov had jumped on my face and was almost suffocating me, just like Grandmère is convinced Fat Louie will do to me. So I was just laying there, with a fifty to sixty pound lump of dog on my face, thinking of the irony that this would be the _one_ thing Grandmère was right about.

Oh yeah, I was sleep-deprived. Looking back on it, I have no idea why I didn't just take him off myself. Maybe I was oxygen-deprived as well.

So, anyway, after a minute or so, I heard muffled footsteps, and then Pavlov was lifted off of my face and I could start breathing again.

I blinked up and saw that it was Michael. He was in a pair of boxers, obviously not expecting me (or anyone else) to see him. His hair was all mussed up, like he had been sleeping. Plus, he looked sort of tired. He just had his dog in his arms-like I hold Fat Louie, only Pavlov is about three times the size of my already-overweight cat, so I knew Michael had to be using his muscles. Then, I saw he was about to leave, so I had to say something, because I knew I wouldn't be able to fall back asleep. Also, he looked kind of nice without a shirt on. This is how the conversation went:

Me: Thank you.  
>Michael: Mia? It's 5:30 in the morning, why are you awake?<br>Me: Um, Pavlov jumped on my face, and I couldn't breathe.  
>Michael: Oh. Right. Sorry about that...<br>Me: I'm fine. Why are you up at 5:30 in the morning on a Sunday?  
>Michael: I couldn't sleep. I'm watching a movie in the living room. Sorry I woke you up so early.<br>Me: What movie?  
>Michael: It's called GATTACA. It focuses on the shortcomings of a society driven by liberal eugenics where potential children are selected through preimplantation genetic diagnosis.<br>Me: Oh.  
>Pavlov barks, so Michael shushes him.<br>Me: Um, I don't know if I will be able to get back to sleep, so...do you mind if I watch the movie with you?  
>Michael: I don't mind.<p>

So, I followed him into the Moscovitzes' living room and sat next to him on the couch. The movie was already halfway over, so I didn't really have any idea what was going on. There was this guy who everyone called Jerome, but he wasn't really Jerome, because the real Jerome was crippled. And then, Uma Thurman was there, telling the impostor guy to run across traffic even though his contacts weren't in and he couldn't see very well. There was this other thing about DNA, but I didn't have the slightest clue what they were talking about.

Anyway, I must have ended up falling asleep, because the next thing I saw was a bare chest. Then, I realized it was MICHAEL'S chest. I felt my cheeks turn red, and I froze. What if I drooled all over him? He would probably tell everyone he knew. Well, he would tell the Computer Club.

Kenny! Kenny Showalter was in the Computer Club! Kenny, the boy who had asked me out not even 36 hours before!

I was the worst girlfriend ever. If I acted like this with my _first_ boyfriend, how would I act when I had more experience with the whole thing?

If I didn't work to change this, Michael would never even think of looking at me.

Michael, whose chest my head was laying on right now.

I yanked my head off his strong, warm chest and stood up quickly. I looked back at Michael, and _he was sleeping!_ If I played it cool, no one but me would ever know.

Michael's eyes fluttered and found me, standing over him like some sort of five foot, nine inch tall royal stalker. "Oh, it's just you, Mia," he said, yawning and sitting up slowly.

"Um, yeah," I said blushing again. Wait, he called me Mia! Did this mean he really did love me but was too afraid to let his true feeling be shown for fear of his sister's wrath?

"I was wondering when you were going to wake up, but I guess I fell asleep, too," he said, sheepishly.

Nope, he was just tired.

He got up and walked into the kitchen Pavlov, who had been laying under the table, ran over to Michael and wagged his tail. "You hungry, Thermopolis?" he asked.

"A little," I said, shrugging. He got out the orange juice and poured each of us a glass. Then, he grabbed a few pieces of bread and put them in the toaster.

"So, what are you and my sister doing today? Anything illegal for that dumb show of hers?"

"Lilly's show promotes individuality while standing united against the injustices of our nation," I recited, partly because I felt it was my duty to, and partly because I didn't want her to hear me dis her show. If she was eavesdropping.

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Thermopolis. How was the wedding?" he asked as he got the toast, set it on a waiting plate, buttered each slice, and began to eat.

He hadn't been around when the Drs. Moscovitz had psychoanaylzed my mother and Mr. G's decision to elope.

"There wasn't one. They went to Mexico instead."

He studied my face. "You seem crushed."

"They didn't want the big production," I shrugged. "I guess I'm going to the Plaza to give back the dress, today."

He turned to put his dishes in the sink, so I couldn't see his face. "Have fun."

"What are you doing today?" I asked him.

"The Computer Club is going to a lecture at Colombia University about advances in medicine with technology," he explained.

"Fun," I said. He laughed.

"See you, Thermopolis," he called, walking away toward his room.

Sometimes, I have no idea what has gotten into him. Are all guys this bipolar? I have to think not, because I surprising amount of men are married. I doubt many sane woman would put up with a man who can't make up his mind.

But then again, men aren't the only ones who are crazy. After all, Grandmère got married.


	2. Chapter 2

_Sunday, November 3, The Plaza  
>11:56 PM<em>

Don't ask me how I had forgotten, but due to my mom and Mr. Gianini being gone on an elopement/honeymoon trip, I have to stay at the Plaza tonight. And tomorrow. Actually, I'm here until they get back.

Here's the kicker: I have to share a room with _Grandmère_.

I wish I had stayed at the Moscovitzes' house.

I showed up at the Plaza with Lars, bridesmaid dress thrown over my arm- Lars was carrying the shoes in his briefcase- and went up to Grandmère's suite so I could return everything from the wedding. Vigo was sitting at a table across from Grandmère, who was barking at the maid to get her another Sidecar. Your Highness, you brought back the dress from the party!"

I just nodded and laid the gown, plus the heels, on one of the sofas. I turned around to make my escape to my room, when a voice said, "Not even a hello for your Grandmère?" in French. I sighed, and kissed both of her whispery cheeks.

Then, someone else said, "Ooh, do i get one of those fancy kisses too?" I whirled around, and there was _Mamaw_! I had thought she had left with Papaw, but she obviously hadn't.

Apparently, Grandmère had convinced Mamaw to stay in New York, while Papaw flew back to Indiana, for _moral support during my princess lessons_. As if! I fully cooperated with Grandmère's decisions (unless they included me eating or wearing animals. Or interviews.) to help save the whales through Greenpeace. What had she done for me? Outed me to the press, forced me into that completely life-ruining interview and, oh yeah, turned me into a **Lana Weinberger lookalike**. And she said _I_ was uncooperative.

Today, Grandmère taught me the proper way to kneel during a ceremony of the state. Or, at least she tried to. Aside from the fact that I am a biological freak (what with my height and underdeveloped breasts), I am about the clumsiest person alive. So while she was lecturing on "Grace, Amelia, poise and grace! A princess is always to float as if on a cloud!" and Mamaw declaring every ten seconds, "Oh, how cultural! My, that is so European!" I lost my balance, fell off of the mat, and somehow rolled down fifteen stairs, landing on Rommel.

And may I say that I don't think I have to count Rommel as an animal ever again? Because that dog, after yelping and jumping up, walked over and peed on my leg.

Lars, hearing the commotion, burst into the room with his gun out. Then, when he saw me laying on the ground, he helped me up. "Are you okay, Princess?" he asked, his eyes darting around.

I took a few steps and then staggered. My left ankle was killing me. "I think I hurt my ankle," I wheezed, hopping to the nearest gilded chair. I massaged the part where it hurt, but I only felt worse. Then, my eyes welled up with tears.

Seriously, you'd think I'd be over the whole "crying at pain" thing. I mean, I'm a princess. How will anyone ever respect me as a ruler if I burst out in tears every time I stub my toe?

Well, this wasn't exactly stubbing my toe. And my ankle was all swelled up, and it was turning all sorts of rainbow colors. "Um, I think I need to see a doctor," I choked out.

Grandmère looked at me unsympathetically. "My debutante ball was held on the eve of my seventeenth birthday, and I walked around the whole night with a broken leg," she sniffed, before whirling around to pick up Rommel and leaving. Mamaw hurried after her asking questions-"Was the ball real grand?"- and left Lars standing with me.

Lars opened another one of the inside pockets on his jacket, and for a split second, I thought he was going to pull out a knife to fix up my ankle, or something. Just a split second, though, since the next I got a good look at his hand and saw that he was just holding a cell phone. He called someone and started talking. I was sort of bored, but I realized soon enough that he had called my dad's suite, way on the other side of the floor.

Lars: Prince Phillipe?

Phone (giggles): No, this is Beverly. Would you like to talk to Lippee?

Lars: Yes, Mia's been injured.

Phone: (in background) Bev, give me the phone. (To Lars) Hello?

Lars: Sir, there's been an accident. Mia-

Phone: My God, is she okay?

Lars: I would like you to accompany us to see a doctor, sir-

Phone: Where are you now? Beverly, get _off_.

Lars: We are in the Dowager Princess's suite-

Phone: (Many mumbled curse words in French) Figures. I'll be right there.

Lars: Yes, sir-

-Dead Line-

Lars smiled at me and said, "Your father will be here soon, Princess."

My dad got to the suite in about six and a half minutes, which isn't bad at all considering he had to change and stuff. Plus, you know, he's kind of old.

"Are you okay, Mia?" he asked worriedly. Well, I should hope so! I'm the only hope Genovia has!

Note to self: never say something like that again.

By this time, I had already dried my watery eyes and just wanted some pain meds. I just nodded.

"I called Dr. Fung again and the limos are ready, so we can go now," he said. I tried to get up, but my ankle completely collapsed. My dad chuckled, saying, "Well, you're not going to be able to walk by yourself." Then, he and Lars picked me up and carried me downstairs, which was completely embarrassing. My face turned all red and I didn't meet anyone's eyes. I mean, under normal circumstances, it's horrible to go through, but:

a) I was a princess

b) I was a 5 foot 9 princess

c) I was a 14 year old, 5 foot 9 inch princess being carried out of one of New York City's most prestigious hotels by her father, the crown prince of a small European principality, and her huge bodyguard.

Plus, I was sure my picture would end up on the front of some gossip magazine tomorrow. Which, you know, wouldn't be so bad if I didn't have _school_ tomorrow.

The last thing I need right now is Lana making some comment about this to me in Algebra.

So, Lars and my Dad sort of shielded me from sight until we got to the limos, at which time the door was opened and I was sort of dumped inside. Only, I didn't land on my ankle, so it was okay. Then, Lars got into the driver's seat and followed my dad's limo.

This is another royal problem: I can't ride in the same transportation vehicle as my father. This is due to my being the heir to the Genovian throne, and him being the reigning monarch, or so I am told. Unfortunately, since Grandmère married into the Renaldo line, this does not prevent her from riding in the same limo/plane/car as me.

But I don't think any Genovians would really miss her.

The ride to Dr. Fung's office was pretty quiet, but when we got there, reporters had already swarmed. I guess someone had seen me being not-so-majestically carried out of the Plaza and called the paps. As if I didn't have enough problems already.

Now, my face would be on the New York Post again, and probably an x-ray. If I happened to get one, that is.

Lars ended up carrying me into the building, solo this time, and he did a pretty good job. I mean, I wasn't dropped or anything, and my ankle didn't touch the ground once.

Dr. Fung was waiting for us. He had, evidently, got the news about my princess-dom, as he was all flustered while he was trying to figure out what I had done. Three x-rays later, I was crouching to make use of the crutches I had been prescribed.

He said that I had a fractured ankle. Fractured as in _broken_. The good doctor said that it will heal itself soon enough, and that I just shouldn't put too much weight on it.

And on top of all this, I still have to sleep in the same room as Grandmère.

She's asleep now. Her eyebrows are completely gone: no stubble at all. It's sort of scary, like she's a genetic monster. Plus, she snores like a train.

I don't know if I'll ever get to sleep.

Mamaw's sleeping in my room. When I tried to protest this, Grandmère just snipped, "A princess always puts the comfort of her people before her own." I pointed out that, with Mamaw being an American citizen, I was no more responsible for her than I was for Lilly's actions, but Grandmère just set her lips into that puckered little line and made a noise like _Pfffuit!_ before leaving the room.

I tell you, this princess thing isn't all it's cracked up to be.


	3. Chapter 3

_Monday, November 3, World Civ._

Was it really necessary for Kenny to follow me to every class and carry all my books?

I mean, it's a nice gesture, and everything. Really. I'm touched.

But Lars could have done it. It's not as if I wasn't making a big enough scene already, what with my too-small crutches, bodyguard, and general aura of princessness.

Though, at the moment, I am not exactly feeling very princessy.

But now, I had a boyfriend trailing me around like a lost puppy.

When we picked up Lilly this morning, she just looked at my taped ankle and rolled her eyes. She actually _rolled her eyes_ at my injury! I guess she wasn't very impressed. Psychological torment, she understands, but she is totally unsympathetic to physical hardship.

Sometimes, I wonder if my choice in friends has slowed my self-actualization.

By the time we got to school, I had completely forgotten about the whole fractured ankle thing. Lilly had been telling me about the newest gift from her stalker, Norman: a $200 gift card to Macy's with little pictures of shoes on it. She said that the Drs. Moscovitz had decided to contact his parole officer. Lilly wasn't the least bit displeased, though. "I deserve it for my hard work on the show," she humbly explained.

So, when I opened the door to get out, I tripped over my own feet and fell onto the cement.

Or, at least, I would have, had Michael Moscovitz not been walking by. He caught me right before I hit the ground.

"Watch it, Thermopolis," he chuckled.

"Ow," I said. Seriously? Ow? That was the best thing I could come up with? No wonder he didn't like me. Well, like-like me.

Lilly stepped over us, making a little disgusted noise in the back of her throat. I felt my face flame up and jumped up. Lars was waiting a couple of feet away with my crutches.

When I got to my locker, Kenny was waiting there. I mentally groaned. I hadn't emailed or talked to him since Halloween. "Mia, what happened?" he asked, looking completely shocked.

"I, um, fell down a flight of stairs. I have a broken ankle," I explained. He gave me a hug, and kissed me on the cheek. But only because I turned my cheek at the last second.

Now, I was the shocked one. Who does that? Oh wait, I was his girlfriend.

"Don't worry, Mia, I promise, I'll carry your stuff until your ankle heals. That's what boyfriends do."

Lilly choked. "Boyfriend?"

Kenny turned to her and said, earnestly, "Yes, Mia is my girlfriend. After admiring her from afar, I asked the girl of my dreams to be mine on Halloween night, at Rocky Horror, and she said yes."

If my face was burning before, then it was shooting five foot flames now. Any other girl might have like the whole "admirer from afar" thing, but it just made me sick. Because I didn't like Kenny. Not that way. And Lilly knew it. She, along with her parents, would probably psychoanalyze the situation until we broke up.

Plus, I saw, Michael Moscovitz had been walking by as Kenny gave his speech. Now, he was frozen in place, and his face was completely shocked. As in, about-to-laugh shocked.

Great.

Our new sub for Mr. Gianini, Dr. Tarlin, was really bad, too. He kept writing things on the board, and any time someone didn't understand what he meant, he would give them a glare and say, "That's your problem, not mine." Three people are already in tears, and I'm pretty close. He keeps talking about rationalizing numbers and squaring triangles. I miss Mr. G!

I guess we never realize what we have until we lose it. Thank goodness they'll be back on the 18th!

After that, my day got no better. In English, I had completely forgotten to finish my "profound moment" essay, and she wouldn't even let me rewrite in class for a grade reduction. She was "disappointed in me" because, as an "extremely influential individual for my peers", I was ""justifying civil disobedience and outright disrespect for rules".

Plus, Lana was in my English class. When I sat down, already trying to get the tears in my eyes to go back where they came from, she hissed-from her seat two rows over- "What's wrong, did you trip over your own feet again?" which is completely unfair, because that's only happened like once before.

Well, and that time this morning.

But still, it wasn't my fault! Not entirely, anyway.

And now, Tina keeps writing me notes about Kenny and my horoscopes.

_Akbar the Great: Indian ruler. Increased knowledge of his people. _

I wonder if anyone will call me "Queen Amelia Migonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo the Great."

But if that's too long, they could always call me Mia.

_Algebra: Pages 254-256, problems 1-34, copy definition of radical equations.  
>English: Write "Profound Moment" essay, read pages 168-174, outline of a report on a famous person<em>

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><p><em>Later, in G&amp;T<em>

Apparently, Lilly and Boris are more serious than I thought. She threatened to punch Dominic Kathawa when he tried to shove Boris in the supply closet.

And they were just talking and holding hands for the whole class.

I seriously hope Kenny never tries to pull something like that on me.

Michael, who was finished with his newest edition of _Crackhead_, started asking me questions about Kenny.

Michael: So, you and Kenny? Kenny Showalter?

Me: Yup.

Michael: Didn't see that one coming

Me: I didn't either.

Michael: Really?

Me: Well, when I was sick, I started getting these, um, love letters. But I thought it was someone else.

Michael: Who did you think it was, Thermopolis?

Me, with completely red cheeks: No one.

Michael: Tell me.

Me: No.

Michael: Who do you have a crush on, Thermopolis?

Me: No one. I have a boyfriend, remember?

Michael: So? That doesn't mean anything. Who did you think was sending you the letters?

Me: This conversation is over.

Michael: Aw, come on, Thermopolis!

I didn't answer. But you want to know what the worst part was? Lars was there, _laughing_, the whole time.

This is why I wanted to quit the whole princess business: I wouldn't have to put up with invasions of privacy, embarrassing interviews with my dad's GOTW (girlfriend of the week), princess lessons, and bodyguards who laugh at my personal life.

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><p><em>Later on Monday, the fire escape next to the Loft<em>

I had an hour to myself after school, due to Mr Gianini's not being here, and my lack of tutoring. And I can't bring myself to ask Dr. Tarlin for help. He sort of scares me.

There was no one around. Lilly was at a doctor appointment, Tina was meeting Dave for coffee, Shameeka was playing hostess at her cousin's birthday party, and Michael and Kenny were in a Computer Club meeting. I couldn't go home, because no one was there, and I really didn't want to go to the Plaza and see Grandmère any earlier than I had to.

Somehow, I ended up on the fire escape. It's a nice view from here; the sky is a light gray and the leaves on the trees are bright colors. Sitting here, I feel like I have no problems at all.

_The view from my room  
>A poem by Mia Thermopolis<em>

_From my room, I can see  
>A million different sights<br>Such as Ronnie meeting her date  
>And the squirrel who teases Fat Louie.<br>I wonder what the squirrel does now  
>That he cannot tease my cat.<br>He probably eats more acorns.  
>Perhaps one day, we will call him Fat Squirrel.<br>I am sure Fat Louie would like that,  
>And so would the pigeons the squirrel chases away.<br>I can also see the garbage truck.  
>The driver honked at a woman,<br>So now she is hitting him with her purse.  
>A bird just flew into a stop sign.<br>Maybe I should go help it.  
>The bird flies away.<br>I wish I could,  
>But if I tried, I would fall<br>And I would probably die,  
>And the Genovians would be mad<br>Because then they would have no future ruler._

I think my poems are getting progressively less inspired and more of me babbling, mixed with some symbolism about my life.

I really hope that changes.

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><p>AN: This story is updated once a week, on Sundays.


	4. Chapter 4

_Still Monday, 8:38 PM, my balcony at the Plaza_

Lars has started knocking on the door, calling my name. I think he thinks I might jump. Off the balcony, I mean. I am seriously considering it.

But, if I did, who will care for Fat Louie?

So, when I showed up for my princess lessons today, Grandmère was waiting in her personal parlor. She was dressed in another very purple ensemble, only this one looked very much like a kimono. When I pointed this out to her, she snapped,"This is not one of those _poulet _outfits. This is pure silk."

If Lilly was here, she would have said something about how condoning stereotypes of Japanese women is only justifying chauvinists everywhere, and made the topic a theme for Lilly Tells It Like It Is. But, me having already been through enough today, didn't say anything. Plus, Grandmère had already left the room while I dissected her words.

I really need to achieve self-actualization.

Grandmère returned with Rommel in her arms. "Come here, Amelia, and hold Rommel."

I gaped at her, completely shocked. "Grandmère! Last time he saw me, he used my broken ankle as a litter box!"

"Stop whining, Amelia, and hold Rommel while I put on my coat." And then, she dumped him in my arms.

He started shaking right away. How would I ever help Greenpeace if this was how animals reacted to me?

"Amelia, we are meeting a colleague of mine for tea today. She has a granddaughter your age who will be joining us. Make yourself look presentable."

I rolled my eyes. Look presentable? By Grandmère's standards, I would never be presentable until I completely gave in to her and Paolo. She started walking away, and I followed her.

"And no crutches."

"Grandmère! I broke my ankle!"

"I had no crutches or pain medicine at my debutante ball, Amelia, I'm sure you can manage," she snipped.

Sometimes, I wonder if Grandmère has ever heard of empathy.

"Where are we meeting them?" I asked, shifting Rommel.

"Le Cirque," she replied, taking Rommel out of my arms and handing him to a maid. "Give him whatever he wants," she instructed the girl in English. I set my crutches by the door, and we left.

The ride to Le Cirque was pretty uneventful. Grandmère was redrawing her eyebrows in the mirror that dropped down from the limo's ceiling. I was staring out the window, watching all the cars sitting in traffic. Some scientists say that New York will be an all-day rush hour by 2025. I think that whoever came up with that has never actually visited New York. Because if they had seen this place, they'd know we were already there.

Of course, this fact was not helped by the two privately owned Genovian limos that had recently taken up residence in the city.

After the limo pulled to a stop, Lars opened the door and we got out. Grandmère had rented out the entire restaurant for her meeting, because "people in this city are just so vulgar, Amelia. Yesterday, while I was waiting at Paolo's I saw one of those people who can't figure out if they are a man or a woman, and he or she cussed at me!" Sometimes, I wish I could cuss at Grandmère. I think it would be funny to see just how many different shades of purple her face can turn. But, of course, this is not proper behavior for the future monarch of a country.

Even if said country is only a mile long.

The manager of Le Cirque opened the door and, whilst kissing Grandmère's hand and bowing to me repeatedly like he had some OCD complex, I saw who was waiting inside. An elderly woman was chatting with a girl about my age in German. Then, the girl turned her head, and I nearly passed out. It was LANA!

How did Grandmère know Lana? Was the whole city in some conspiracy to keep me from being happy? I mean, I'm failing Algebra (even though my mom dated and married my teacher- plus, now she's having his baby!), found out I was a princess, one of the boys I liked ended up pulling a total Monica Lewinsky-only asking me out for his fifteen minutes of fame- for the Cultural Diversity Dance, I got sent to the principal's office for "dealing narcotics", was sent love letters from and eventually asked out by Kenny Showalter, woke up on the chest of the _other_ guy I like, my ankle is broken, I'm _still_ not self-actualized, and now have to share a bedroom with my insane grandmother at the fanciest hotel in New York. Why not throw in tea with my mortal enemy?

"Amelia, this is-," Grandmère began.

"Grandmère, how could you?" I yelled. My face was red, I knew, and tears started forming in my eyes.

"Amelia!" she snapped. "Do not converse with me in English."

I gritted my teeth. "I don't really care."

Grandmère rolled her eyes and turned to Lana and the other woman. "I am very sorry, Amelia must be pre-menstrual. She has certainly never acted this way before-"

Lana started snickering, and my face heated up even more. "I am not PMSing, Grandmère! That's it, I'm out of here." I turned on my heel and ran, ignoring the pain in my ankle. Lars saw me and sprinted to catch me. "Are you alright?" he asked. I didn't answer. I thought the tears did a good enough job. He sighed. "At least tell me where you are going."

"I'm going to the shelter," I said, turning on left on 3rd and ignoring all the tourists gawking at me.

Lars sighed. "I'm coming with you," he stated. I was silent. I knew the drill. It was another "perk" of royalty. The whole no-privacy-not-even-one-teensy-bit thing, I mean. I took a right turn and another left, and then I was in front of the Humane Society. I gave Lars a pleading look, and he took up his post outside the door. Lars doesn't hover, but that doesn't mean he wasn't totally serious about his job. It meant that he also cared about my feelings, which was no easy feat, what with Grandmère and the rest of my issues.

But, I figured, the closest I can get to normalcy right now is looking at adorable little kittens.

I really miss Fat Louie right now.

Oh, nothing bad happened to him or anything. He's staying at the Plaza with me until my mom and Mr. G get back. Except for that fact that Grandmère hates him. She's always been convinced that he'll smother me while I sleep, which has yet to happen. To "prevent the death of the future monarch of Genovia", she kept telling my dad that I had to leave him at the loft.

But, I argued, who would take care of him there? We have no staff, and Louie is still confused as to how come a foosball table is now occupying his favorite nap spot?, which I have tried to explain. Plus, who would feed him? With staying at the Plaza and school and princess lessons, I don't have a reason (or a consistent time) to go to the loft, which would mean no guarantee of his daily meals.

My dad had just looked at the two of us and sighed. Then, he said, "Mother, Mia has gone through enough schedule upset with staying at the Plaza. Her cat can stay here with her."

But, of course, Grandmère had to have her way. At least a little bit. So she said, "Fine, Phillipe, but he will not sleep in her room." I knew this was coming. "And he will stay in a closet when Rommel is around, because cats bring on his epilepsy." Okay, _that_ was completely unfair. Rommel shook at the sight of anything-or anyone-foreign. He even shook when Grandmère was holding him.

But this, I knew from personal experience, was probably out of fear.

Still, I accepted the compromise. As long as my cat was safe, I was fine. The only problem, of course, was that Fat Louie usually sat in my room while I wrote in this diary, and now it was like something was missing. Whenever I reached out to pet his head, my hand only touched air.

So, seeing all those homeless cats and dogs, and knowing that they might never be loved or have proper homes and owners, made me start crying. I wasn't crying hard, but I was still crying. I tried to pick up as many as I could, petting and hugging them, and letting them feel loved.

I swear, if I ever did getting around to turning the royal palace in Genovia into an animal shelter, like I had told Lilly that time when I slept over and she was filming and put it on her show, I would make Grandmère's rooms into the cat wing.

It was while I was holding two little gray kittens who had fallen asleep in my arms that the door clanged open. I looked at who had walked in, and _it was Michael_!

I don't think I've ever been that shocked. Except for maybe the whole princess thing. And the Algebra baby.

"Michael? What are you doing here?" I whisper-screamed, so not to wake up the kittens.

He stood there looking a little uncomfortable. "I came to get Pavlov's dog food," he said awkwardly. Only I knew that he always buys Pavlov's food and toys at American Kennels on Lexington Avenue, because he knows the clerk and gets the employee discount. Plus, it's a lot closer to his house.

"What are you d-are you _crying_ Thermopolis?" he said, looking at my face closer.

"Shut up," I grumbled.

"No, it's-are you okay?" he asked, in a softer voice. Which is weird, considering I just told him to shut up.

"I don't know," I answered, my voice wavering and turning a little squeaky. "It's just that I have to sleep in Grandmère's room at the Plaza while my mom's still in Mexico with Mr. G, and I miss my cat, and my sub in algebra is completely unfair and mean, and I had to go to tea with _Lana Weinberger, _and most of the animals won't ever be loved," I blurted out. He sort of stared at me like I had turned into one of those shriveled up sea things from the Disney version of _The Little Mermaid_. You know, when the sea witch takes their souls because they couldn't pay the price of whatever she gave them?

Well, I couldn't really blame him. I went sort of crazy and dumped all my problems on him. Boys can't really deal with that much emotional baggage.

Or so I thought, because then Michael said, all thoughtfully, "Well, Mia, I'm sure you could spend the night at our house, or your friend Tina's house, until your mom gets back. And your cat could come with you. You know, as long as my parents don't know and Pavlov can't get to him. I can help you more in algebra, but if your sub gets to be too much of a problem, you'll have to talk to Principal Gupta. I have no idea what went on during tea with Lana, or why you even went, but it couldn't have been _too_ bad because you still look and sound like yourself. And about the animals, well, you want to work for Greenpeace, right? So you can help as many animals as possible then, even if you can't now."

God. God, he was right about _everything_! He had fixed my entire life!

Well, there was still the princess thing. And Grandmère. And achieving self-actualization. But those issues couldn't really be helped.

So, I sort of looked up at Michael and said, all sniffly, "Thank you. I mean, about the whole algebra thing. And, you know, helping me through all of that. Plus, just being here, and..."

Not being a jerk, I wanted to say. But that would have been mean, because he has been totally not jerk-like lately. Plus, he had just solved every problem I had be upset about.

He looked at me with a strange expression on his face. I didn't really know what it was. Pity, maybe? "Thermopolis..." he said. Then, he gave me a hug.

It wasn't romantic, or anything. I knew he saw me as a little sister, and that was what he would have done for Lilly. If she wasn't a certifiable genius who had achieved self-actualization and never had breakdowns, of course.

Just as I started enjoying the feeling of Michael's strong arms around me and the smell of his neck (which was strangely intoxicating, but calming at the same time), those kittens in my arms started yawning and rolling over. Michael pulled out of the hug, looked down at the kittens-who looked like they were getting paid to be adorable!-and sort of laughed, running his fingers through his hair. I ended up laughing a little, too. Because it had all turned out okay. Yeah, maybe I still had to see Lana in school tomorrow, and maybe Grandmère would yell at me when I got back to the Plaza, but for now, I was fine.

And it felt good.

I ended up leaving with Michael around 8:15, me in a limo, him walking to catch the subway. I had offered to take him to the Subway, or his house, whichever he preferred, but he said that he was fine. Lars drove me back to the Plaza. While we were waiting at a red light, I asked him, "Lars, did you call Michael and tell him to go to the shelter?" But he didn't answer. I think I already knew, though. How else would he have known I was there? "Thank you," I said. Lars was still quiet.

When we got to the Plaza, I quickly sneaked into one of the other guest rooms. Or at least, I would have, if Mamaw hadn't seen me. "Mia! What are you doing? Clarisse, I found the runaway!" Mamaw gave me a huge hug, saying the whole time, "Mia, you can't just run off like that!"

When Grandmère saw me, her lips pressed into that thin little line again. "Amelia, I have never been so humiliated. What makes things worse is that the girl is your classmate. It was extremely rude of you to do that!" she screamed.

Only it was French, so instead of Mamaw hearing me getting verbally abused, she just kept oohing and ahhing.

"Amelia, that woman has obviously not raised you to be respectful," she said.

"My mom is the best there is!" I yelled.

"Princesses do not screech!" Grandmère snipped.

"I never wanted to be a princess," I screamed, sobbing again. "I'm sick of this!" I added, storming away into my room. Childish, I know, but it (hopefully) got my point across.

Or so I thought. The next thing I knew, the lock was being turned, and I was a prisoner.

And here I am. Lars keeps asking me if I'm okay. I don't really know what to tell him. If I say yes, I'll just stay in here crying all night. If I say no, he'll break down the door and probably call me dad.

I wonder if my dad will let me get away from Grandmère. Probably not.

I think I'll just say I'm fine.

_To-do:_

_Achieve self-actualization_

_Stop making a fool of myself in front of Michael Moscovitz_

_Stop thinking about Michael Moscovitz_

_Ask Lilly/Tina if I can spend the night at her house tomorrow/for the rest of the week_

_Keep Fat Louie away from Mom and Mr. Gianini's baby when he/she is born, in case of accidental smothering_

_Understand algebra_

_Try to be nice to Lana Weinberger_


	5. Chapter 5

_Tuesday, November 4, The west stairway at Albert Einstein High School_

Oh my God. Yesterday, when I was "missing", Grandmère called _my mom_!

Really. I mean, my pregnant, newly wed mother got a call from _Grandmère_.

I guess it wasn't so surprising that I got a call from her. But did she have to do it while I was in _school_? I mean, I get that she was worried and everything, but was it really necessary for me to be pulled out of _algebra_, my worst class, with the sub who hates me (and everyone else in the class. But whatever.) already, to get the message?

No. It wasn't.

So, we had a nice little chat.

Me: Hello?

My mom: Mia, you're alright!

Me: Um. Yeah. What are you talking about?

My mom: I got a frantic phone call from your grandmother last night-

Me: Really? Mamaw called you?

My mom: No, Mia. Your other grandmother.

Me: _Grandmère_?

My mom: Yes, Mia. That woman called me, in the middle of lunch-

Me: Wait, why would Grandmère call you?

My mom: Well, she thought I would like to know that my daughter, the future heir to Genovia, was missing.

Me: Oh.

My mom: So, what happened?

Me: Um, Grandmère took me to tea. And Lana was there.

My mom: Okay, what happened after that?

Me: Well, then I went to the humane society.

My mom: How long did it take for her to find you?

Me: She didn't. I went back to the Plaza.

My mom: Oh, honey, I'm so sorry I left you with her! I am such a bad parent.

Me: Are you crying?

My mom: I am so irresponsible!

Me: Can I talk to Mr. Gianini?

My mom: I'm coming home right now. Frank, let's pack. We're going home.

Me: No, mom!

Mr. Gianini, in the background: No, Helen, we're not going home.

Me: Mr. Gianini?

Mr. Gianini, now talking: Hi, Mia. I don't know what's going on-

Me: Neither do I. Has she been drinking the tap water?

Mr. Gianini: No, it's all bottled.

Me: Oh. Maybe it's the hormones.

Mr. Gianini: Probably.

Me: Well, okay. I guess I should go. I'm supposed to be in algebra.

Mr. Gianini: How's your substitute teacher?

Me: He can't really teach. And he made Alexis Rutteski and Tania Yarou cry.

Mr. Gianini: What?

Me: Yeah.

Mr. Gianini: Can you put Principal Gupta on the phone, Mia?

Me: Um. Okay.

So then, I told the secretary that my mother's new husband wanted to talk to Principal Gupta. Only I didn't call him my mother's new husband. I just called him Mr. Gianini.

Then I headed back to algebra.

Dr. Tarlin had his head down on Mr. G's desk, but he lifted it when he heard the door open. He looked at me and sort of sneered, which was completely unfair, because it wasn't _my_ fault that I had been called out of class. Plus, you know, my crutches were sort of making my arms hurt. "So, New York's princess has decided to grace us with her presence." Which was really mean.

"Um, I had to take a phone call. From Mexico. In the office." I was sort of mumbling, and all, but I didn't care. Lana was snickering, and my face was red, and Lars was standing outside the classroom.

"And do find that phone calls from Mexico are more important than your education, your highness?" he asked, sarcastically.

"I had to take the call," I said, looking at him with what was, I'm sure, an incredulous look.

"So you _do _think that talking on the phone is more important than these math classes, your royal majesty?" he spat. Alright, not only was that unprofessional, but he also got the titles mixed up.

"It was important!"

"So is my math class!"

"You don't even teach!" I yelled. Everything went quiet.

Me and my stupid big mouth. Why, oh _why,_ couldn't I stop talking?

He glared at me with such hatred, I flinched and actually started backing up. Which, if you think about it, is no easy feat when you're hobbling around on crutches. But I managed.

"Detention, Thermopolis!" he roared.

I just looked at him, as in a daze, until Lana pulled out her shiny silver phone and started taking pictures.

Because me? In detention? I've never even gotten sent down to the _principal's_ office! Except, you know, for the whole giving-Michael-Moscovitz-some-cough-syrup thing. But, still, I had detention? Boy, would my mom flip when she heard that! Do detentions go on your permanent records? Because if they do, my mom will kill me, no joke. Plus, what if TMZ finds out about this? I will be _so_ screwed. That's probably why Lana took the pictures.

Anyway, after I snapped out of the trance-like state of shock, I turned around and walked out of class. I'm completely serious. _I_ walked out of class! Well, I already had detention anyway. At this rate, I'll join the Yo-Yo gang by lunchtime.

So, here I am, sitting on the stairs while everyone is in first hour. Because no one else is lame enough to skip first hour and stay on school property.

But who knows? Maybe I'll start a revolution.

* * *

><p><em>Later on Monday, Lunch<em>

Since my little outburst in algebra, I have faithfully attended English, World Civ, and PE.

But did that save me from getting in trouble?

Oh, no. Of course not.

The office aide, a senior with study hall, came to get me in the middle of PE.

So, of course, I sat in the office until Principal Gupta was ready to see me. When I went into her office, I saw another woman, wearing combat boots and a flower in her hair, there. "Hello, Amelia, my name is Dr. Starr," she smiled.

"Mia," I said.

Principal Gupta closed the door and said, really politely, "So, I understand that you had a little episode in math class today with Dr. Tarlin. He says that you were verbally abusive and disruptive."

Okay, first of all, "episode"? She sounded like I was schizophrenic or bipolar and tried to kill myself. And "verbally abusive"? He was the one who started the whole thing. Plus, nothing I said was bad. well, except the whole "you don't teach" thing. But I was being honest; he didn't teach.

"Um, no."

"No, what, Amelia?"

"I wasn't abusive."

"Tell me what happened from your point of view, then."

"Well, I got called down to the office because my mom was on the phone. And when I came back, he started yelling at me."

"About what?"

"Well, he said that math is more important than my mom's phone call."

"Alright then. And on a completely unrelated subject, Mr. Gianini spoke to me and said that you did not like Dr. Tarlin?"

I froze. "Well, no, because he isn't a good teacher and he made three people cry yesterday and he doesn't teach and yells at us and he just puts his head down on his desk during class."

"Alright, Amelia. You can go back to class now."

I practically ran out of that office. But then the bell rang, so I had to go change out of my gym clothes, and I was late to lunch. But Tina and Kenny had saved me a seat. Lars was a little mad though, because no one had saved him a seat, and he had to sit at a separate table. But Wahim was there, so I guess it was okay.

While I was in line to get my salad, Lana came up behind me and hissed, "Way to spaz out, freak!" Only she did that thing where she gave the word freak multiple syllables again.

Kenny, who had been standing in front of me, whirled around and said, "Stop harassing my girlfriend, Lana." Which was totally embarrassing. I mean, if it was Michael it would have been fine. But it was just _so weird_ hearing those words come out of Kenny's mouth.

Lana looked at both of us, narrowing her eyes. "Aw, freak and the nerd. You two are just _perfect_ for each other!"

"Get out of here," Kenny growled. He actually _growled_, like he was some sort of wolf or lion. Or maybe a bear.

Lana just laughed and said, "Shut up, nerd." Then, she looked at me and said, "I wonder what I'll have today. Maybe some _tea_? What do you think, freak?" She had me, and she knew it. "They should up your prescription so there won't be any repeats of algebra. Wouldn't want that story getting out, would you?" Then, she left, snickering.

Kenny and I paid for our food and walked back to our table. The whole time, he was asking, "What happened in algebra, Mia? Are you having trouble? Because, I'm in Honors Geometry, you know, and I could help you while Mr. Gianini is gone."

Finally, I said, "I just don't like Dr. Tarlin. He yelled at me in front of the class."

Kenny's hands were clenched in fists of rage. "He what?"

I sighed. "Nothing, Kenny, just drop it."

Kenny was getting even more mad. "It is _not_ nothing, Mia! He has no right to do that to anyone! I'll take care of it, okay honey?" he said soothingly. Eww! My _mom_ had called me honey when we were talking on the phone this morning! The whole situation sort of creeped me out.

And then, he took my hand and kissed me. On the lips.

Oh, we weren't making out or anything. I mean, I have _some_ dignity left.

Not that Kenny didn't try.

"Mia, everything's going to be okay," he said a few moments later, smiling.

No, I wanted to say, everything is _not_ going to be okay. I am not in love with you, Kenny. Why can't you see that?


	6. Chapter 6

_Even later on Monday, G&T_

Well, thanks to Lana and her phone, what happened in algebra is officially all over the school.

Not that I didn't expect it, or anything, because I did. Expect it, I mean. I just didn't think it would happen this fast.

But then again, it _is_ Lana, so i shouldn't be surprised.

Of course, the whole Mia-yelled-at-a-teacher-then-cut-class thing was all anyone would talk about all through G&T. Lilly got to me first.

Lilly: So, you yelled at that stupid Tarlin guy and got detention.

Me: Yeah.

Lilly: And then, you cut class.

Me: Yeah.

Lilly: But you couldn't help me with the boycott of Ho's Deli.

Me: That was completely different.

Lilly: Really?

Michael: Drop it, Lilly. Mia didn't want to help with that.

Me: Exactly. Thank you, Michael.

Michael: So, you yelled at a teacher, got detention, and walked out?

Me: Drop the issue, please.

Michael: Nice job, Thermopolis.

Me: Really?

Michael: Yeah, that took guts. So, what did Principal Gupta say?

Me: What?

Michael: Didn't you talk to her about that Tarlin guy after you left?

Me: Um, no. Well, I did, because she sent an office aide while I was in PE-

Michael: Hold on, so you didn't walk out to try and get a better math teacher?

Me: Well, no. He was yelling at me-

Michael: I take back what I said, because what you did was just dumb.

Lilly: No, she was protesting her being treated unfairly. I can respect that. I just wish that she could see that social injustice stretches far beyond the individual. She _could_ have helped protest racism with me, but no, she decided to become a _princess_-

Me: I did not choose to become a princess! And thanks for your respect.

Lilly: -and completely forgot about her best friend-

Me: I did _not_ forget about you, Lilly! I was busy with the whole Grandmère thing-

Lilly: -and the exclusive interview she promised said friend.

Me: Lilly. I've apologized for that, and you can't hold it over my head forever-

Lilly: And now, she remembers that friend, so she will get my support for her cause.

Me: Thank you.

Lilly: Though I do not approve of her methods.

Me: I take that back. Come on, not you, too!

Lilly: She should have come to someone with experience in the field.

Me: Am I invisible? I'm sorry for anything I might have done to offend you, Lilly, but I really don't need to have this argument right now.

Boris: Are you okay, Mia? I heard that in algebra, you-

Me: Shut up!

Boris: Sorry.

This was pretty much how the whole class went. Other people, such as Jenna Kudi and Brendan Fotter, just sneered and laughed, holding up a video of what seemed to be me in algebra.

Wait, a video? Of what happened in algebra?

"Hey, Michael?" I asked, interrupting the Moscovitzes' intellectual tennis game. He looked up. "Yeah?"

"If I needed proof of what really happened in algebra, to prove it to Principal Gupta, would a video be enough?"

He blinked a few times, and then replied, "I don't see why not. As long as you can hear your voices."

"Thank you!" I hugged him quickly, and then, realizing what I was doing, ran over to Jenna and Brendan.

"What do you want, spaz?" Jenna said in her screechy voice.

"Can you send me that video?" I said breathlessly. On account of, you know, my running across the room. The breathlessness, I mean.

"Why, so you can bust Lana for having her phone out in class? I don't think so."

"Are you in Mr. Gianini's class?" I asked.

"Yeah, third hour," she said hesitantly.

"Okay, do you like Dr. Tarlin?"

"No, not at all."

"Well, if you email me that video, I might get him fired." And not have detention. But I didn't tell her that.

"Okay...," she agreed.

"Just send it to my school email, ftlouie , okay?"

"Got it. And Mia?" I turned around. "If you get Lana in trouble, she'll kill both of us."

"I know." And then I went back to Lilly. And Michael.

"That was a surprise, Thermopolis," Michael remarked dryly.

"I know," I replied.

"So, tell us what happened in algebra," Michael smiled.

"Well, it all started when I got a phone call...," I began.

Maybe today wasn't so bad, after all.

* * *

><p><em>Bio (with Kenny, ugh)<em>

I'm seriously scared. I think Kenny has gone crazy.

All through class, he's been holding my hand and telling me that after today, Dr. Tarlin would never do anything to me again. Come on, what sane person says that?

I mentioned this to Kenny, but he didn't seem to care. Nor did he notice when he was called on by the teacher. Until I told him, that is.

I have no idea what he's up to, but it can't be good.

I wonder if he's going to go all terrorist on me.

It wouldn't really surprise me, I guess. I mean, they always say that it's the quiet ones you have to look out for. But could he be planning a school wide massacre?

I doubt it.

Then again, he's been acting all jumpy since lunch.

Somebody should call the cops. Not that I want them to. Call the cops, I mean. Because I don't. He's the only guy who has ever shown the slightest bit of interest in me, and I wouldn't want him arrested. I'm not in love with him, or anything. I mean, I'm not even in _like_ with him. But I don't want the boys in blue to haul him away.

Plus, who would help me with my bio homework?

_Math: Who cares?  
>English: Work on essay; turn in outline tomorrow for extra credit<br>World Civ.: Quiz Thursday on the Mughal and Gupta empires  
>French: <em>_Description de vos cours et le calendrier, mot minimum cinquante.  
>Biology: Study for Chapter 12 test tomorrow- ask Kenny for help!<em>

* * *

><p><em>Right after school, the limo<em>

Well, Kenny won't be helping me study for my bio test tonight. Actually, he won't be helping me with any homework outside of school for a while.

This is because he has detention every day for two weeks.

And how, you ask, did he obtain this extensive punishment?

Oh, he just got in a fight with Dr. Tarlin after school, no biggie. Well, I guess it _was_ a biggie. The situation, I mean. After all, he did get detention. But on the bright side, Dr. Tarlin can no longer teach Kenny's class anymore.

Unfortunately, he can still teach mine.

The fight happened right in front of the school, which you can see from Principal Gupta's office. Kenny just walked right up to him while he was leaving and said, "Don't mess with my girlfriend." Dr. Tarlin just laughed. But then he stopped. Laughing, I mean. Because Kenny tried to punch him. Dr. Tarlin dodged it though, and punched Kenny, instead of the other way around. Then Principal Gupta came outside and asked what was going on here, and what on earth did the two of them think they were doing? Kenny's nose was all bloody and swollen, and Dr. Tarlin's hand was all red and painful-looking, so it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what had happened. Principal Gupta told Kenny to go get some ice from the nurse and bend your head forward so the blood will drip out. She took Dr. Tarlin's shoulder and led him back into the school, telling him that I don't know how you taught back in Brooklyn but at Albert Einstein High School we do not handle discipline physically, and what are all of you students looking at?

So we had to go.

And I have to say, I'm a little relieved. Not that the fight happened, but that Kenny learned a valuable lesson: he will never fight a teacher and win.

I think it will do him some good.

Lars was laughing during the whole thing. I thought this was a little rude, considering that he worked for me (well, okay, the Genovian royal family, but whatever) and he was laughing at my _boyfriend_ start a fight and get his nose bashed in. Lars said that he was under the impression that I was not particularly fond of Kenny, to which I replied that I wasn't but that didn't mean I didn't care about it. His getting hurt, I mean.

Lars said he understood and didn't laugh anymore.

Then, I asked him if he had called Michael yesterday. He didn't say anything, so I just said, "Thank you."

Lars just said, "I'm supposed to not let you get hurt, Princess."

And for some reason, I don't think he meant assassination attempts. Though, who would try to kill a vegetarian, animal-loving, community-helping princess, I would like to know.


	7. Chapter 7

_Later on Tuesday, 9:42 PM, Tina's penthouse_

Well, I ended up taking Michael's advice and spending the night at Tina's.

I guess I could have gone to Lilly's, but after what happened after school, I think she would have figured out why Kenny had started the fight. And she would try to play psychoanalyst. And then, Dr. Moscovitz would get in on the act. Only not the other Dr. Moscovitz, because she's in Michigan for a seminar called "The Art of Psychotherapy and Where it Will Take Us". I honestly have no idea where they come up with the names of these seminars, but let me tell you, I would never go to one. Even if it turned out to be interesting. Because the way they advertise these things are completely 1960's, with the peace symbols, and the hearts, and the smiley faces.

I wonder how many people have been driven insane by psychotherapy.

So, anyway, here I am at Tina's. Her little sister is asleep, and Tina is making more popcorn. We're having a Disney marathon, due to the fact that Sera needed to see what quality entertainment for toddlers is. I realized this when we started playing with her dolls.

I had just told her (Sera) about Fat Louie, and she seemed very interested.

"Mia?" she had asked.

"Yeah?"

"Are you going to get another cat?" she inquired curiously.

"Um, I'm not sure." Sera was a cute little girl, but she had so many questions!

"Well, if you do, and you want to breed them, make sure they aren't brother and sister. Because if they are, the kittens will turn out all funny. It's a southern thing," she informed me, all matter-of-factly. Me and Tina just looked at each other with open mouths.

"Sera, honey, who told you that?" Tina asked shakily.

"We learned about it in school. It's called-"

"Never mind, Sera," Tina said quickly. We were both still shocked, but I guess it's true that kids these days don't get a childhood. Well, I mean, we _were_ playing with Barbies. And, yeah, we had planned a Disney marathon later. (The real movies, though, like Lion King and Little Mermaid and Who Framed Roger Rabbit.) But little kids weren't _innocent_ anymore!

When I'm queen of Genovia, I will make sure that every kid is kept innocent until at least middle school. Then, they can start finding out all the X-rated stuff.

I _was_ in a relatively good mood when I brought my stuff here today, on account of Grandmère being "too busy" for princess lessons. I guess Mamaw had accidentally knocked over some expensive Genovian lamp, and Grandmère pulled a total Margaret White. At least, until the maids got there.

"But," Grandmère said, "I have simply gone through too much today. Somebody bring me a sidecar!" she snapped. All in all, I wasn't too upset. I mean, sure, the loss of a lamp can be tragic, but seeing as how there are hundreds in Grandmère's penthouse at the Plaza alone, it wasn't that big of a deal.

But, apparently, it meant so much to Grandmère that she sent Mamaw packing, because the last thing I heard before I left for Tina's was, "...and somebody, escort that _woman_ out!" I guess every friendship has it's limits. Even if it's built on something as strong as the hatred of my mother and her choices.

Well, at least my mother and her new husband would have one less problem to deal with when they got back. And I would get my room back, for good this time.

Grandmère might just have done something right for once.

But I have to go now, because Mulan just ended and Beauty and the Beast (my favorite Disney movie, as well as Broadway musical, ever) is about to start, and Tina's done making the popcorn. She even brought hot chocolate, with marshmallows and whipped cream.

My friends are the best!

* * *

><p><em>Wednesday, November 4, English<em>

_**Mia, what was that this morning?**_

I have no idea.

_**I mean, stalkerish much? You need to have him seriously analyze himself, because that sort of behavior could be completely detrimental to his health.**_

Well, what was I supposed to do? He just showed up, then he started singing!

_**Kenny? SINGING? Wow, he has got it bad.**_

I know.

_**Why aren't you happy about that? You should totally be happy to find a man who is unafraid of commitment. A man so in touch with his emotions that he braves the first snowfall of the year to serenade his girlfriend.**_

If you think he's so great, Lilly, then why don't you tell him that? You can have him!

_**Don't be ridiculous. I already have Boris, who is quite attached. He is an excellent specimen.**_

When you call him a specimen, he sounds like one of the frogs in Bio, about to have his insides sliced up and spilled on the lab table.

_Eww, graphic much?_

_**I know, right?**_

It's not okay for both of you to gang up on me like that.

_What'd I miss?_

_**Mia's mad because Kenny showed at the Plaza and sang Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up" into an electric megaphone this morning.**_

_MIA! That is SO romantic! I wish Dave would do that for me!_

This is KENNY we're talking about.

_True. But still, he likes you a lot!_

_**That's what I said.**_

Again, this is KENNY.

_**Yes. Kenny. Your boyfriend.**_

Whatever. It was completely embarrassing. The security tried to call the cops, but Grandmere invited him _up to the suite_. At 5:30 in the morning. She had us both sit down on the couch and drink tea, while she gave Kenny the Talk. And questioned him about his intentions. And then, he kept holding my hand and trying to kiss me. On the lips.

_**That's typically where people who are romantically involved kiss each other.**_

_HE STUCK AROUND AFTER SHE DID THAT! HE'S THE ONE!_

God, I hope not.

_**Come on, Mia, listen to Tina.**_

No! It was so completely horrib

Active voice= subject is doing the action  
>Passive voice= subject is receiving the action<p>

Examples:

Active: I need to do something about Kenny.

Passive: Something needs to be done about Kenny.

* * *

><p><em>G&amp;T<em>

Well, that went fine. Just fine.

I went up to Kenny at lunch, all cool and everything, and just went, "Hey."

That's all I said. Just "Hey." But, apparently, he was expecting this, because he just said, "Hi, Mia. I know what you're going to say, and I just want you to know that I'm fine with what happened with your grandmother this morning. I understand that you need support when it comes to confrontation with her, and I am prepared to stand by you no matter what."

Needless to say, I was pretty much speechless.

"Kenny," I tried.

"Mia, you are the nicest girl I've ever met, and I know that you are fragile, but I'll protect you," he finished, smiling.

Okay, this was _so _not the way I had wanted this to go. I mean, Tina was right, Kenny _was _pretty romantic, but I didn't feel the same way he did! If _Michael_ was saying all of that, I would be completely fine with it. Actually, I would be more than completely fine with it. But Kenny was no Michael.

So, instead of returning his affections, I carefully said, "Thank you, Kenny."

I really need to learn more about this romance stuff.

G&T isn't even worth it, today. Michael's in the health room, helping the sub with the TV, and Lilly's fighting with Boris. Apparently, she did some research on the songs he's been playing, and all of the composers were depressed, and she thinks that signifies Boris's secret depression. He says that he's not depressed, and that those are just what his violin instructor recommended to him. Lilly shoved him back in the supply closet and now he's crying while playing that really depressing music from Schindler's List.

I think that if anything could make Boris depressed, it would be Lilly. Because he's completely in love with her.

It's actually quite disturbing to watch. Even more disturbing for me, though, because I recognize that look. It's the look Kenny always wears when he looks at me.

It always makes me feel bad, because I know that one day, I will have to break his heart.

I just wish I knew how to do it nicely.


	8. Chapter 8

_Monday, November 9, the limo, on the way to school_

Okay, what Grandmere did was completely underhanded in my opinion. She took my _diary_ for crying out loud!

She says that I haven't "been focused" on my lessons. Which, if you consider the circumstances, is _totally_ okay. I mean, I was worrying about Kenny possibly being in love with me, Lilly and Tina's constant therapy sessions, the fact that I still _suck _at algebra (despite my teacher being my stepfather and the possible love of my life tutoring me), my ankle (which I didn't need crutches for anymore, which made walking easier but, unfortunately, caused my appearance in PE to be necessary), and the developing fetus in my mother's womb possibly becoming contaminated with poison from tap water in Mexico. Though I really hoped Mr. G had the last one covered, because with exams coming up and everything, I was in no shape to hop on the Royal Genovian jet and fly to Cancun.

Of course, when I mentioned these issues, she made the little _Pfuit _sound through her teeth and said, "Amelia, princesses do not complain, nor do they slouch!" Because I had started slouching, like usual.

I think she should just give up her utopian idea of me with perfect posture. It will _never _happen.

Then, she sighed and said, "Amelia, look at me!" So I looked up. "Good. Now give me that book of yours."

"Book?" I asked, totally confused due to the fact that I don't typically read for fun. I am usually tied up with other, more important tasks such as studying for algebra and trying to save the whales (and my future sibling). Oh, and preparing to one day rule a small European principality, we don't want to forget about that one.

Grandmere rolled her eyes. "That journal," she clicked her tongue.

"Ohhh," I said, pulling it out of my backpack and showing it to her.

"Thank you," she snipped, snatching it.

"What?" I yelled.

"Amelia, if you don't have any distractions, you will learn all of this faster and I will be able to go back to Genovia. Isn't that what you want?" she asked.

I wish I could do that. Twist people's words around, I mean. It's kind of a superpower, in a weird way. Unfortunately, Grandmere doesn't use her powers to save the city or anything. She just convinces her only granddaughter, future ruler of her country, that it is okay to give up a diary.

Oh, I wasn't worried about her reading it or anything. I mean, it was all in English, which she completely hates. And plus, who would ever care about what I wrote in my diary? It's not like my life is _interesting_. Except for, you know, the whole princess thing.

But only that.

Getting back to the princess lessons, I ended up letting Grandmere keep this without a fight. It was a bad decision, to put it mildly. When she finally said, "Well, Amelia, that will be all for now, as I have a dinner party at the mayor's home tonight," I just sort of walked up to her and waited.

"Why are you standing there like a lost orphan, Amelia? Put your chin up. And straighten your spine," she instructed.

"Um, Grandmere? What about my diary?"

"What about it?"

"Well, can I have it back?" I asked.

"I don't think so, Amelia. You need to focus every day, not just now. You may have your blanchet sécurité back in a week, I think."

My mouth hit the floor with that one. "What? Grandmere, you can't do that!"

"I just did. Now goodbye, Amelia, I must get ready for dinner. I do hope they'll have the foie gras again, as much as you hate it, you cannot deny it always tastes wonderful..." she said, leaving the room.

I stood there for a few moments, reveling in the injustice of it all. I mean, a _week_ without my diary? How was I supposed to vent my anger, I ask, without a creative outlet?

This is why I wish I had never met Grandmere.

The rest of the week was alright, I guess. I was sort of depressed. Kenny attributed this to his being punched by our substitute math teacher and the whole situation finally sinking in. He seemed pretty pleased, and kept assuring me that he was fine and "would do anything to protect me." I guess he forgot about Lars, who had been silently shaking with laughter next to us.

As gratifying as it was to have a boyfriend (even if he was a little- or a lot- over enthusiastic), I knew we weren't meant to be. My heart belonged to another.

That didn't mean Kenny knew, though. He just kept going on about how much he cared about me and that, when it was cold enough, he'd make sure we went skating at Rockefeller Center.

I pointed out that we would never be able to go anywhere without TMZ getting a picture of us. He just smiled, patted by hand, and (while gazing deep into my eyes) said, "I don't care about any of that, Mia. Because I love-"

I started coughing really loudly. Was he really going to drop the L word after we hadn't even been dating for a whole week?

"-spending time with you, and it doesn't matter who knows about it."

Boy, had he dodged a bullet. If he had said the whole phrase, I just might have started screaming.

I'm sure he expected me to look at him in awe, or say something romantic. I guess it must have been discouraging for him to hear me say, "Gee, thanks Kenny."

The thing is that I really meant it, too. I didn't love Kenny. I didn't even like him. In that special way, I mean. I wanted to stay friends with him, and I wanted him to realize that whatever he felt for me? Yeah, it wasn't love. Not really.

I wonder what my mom would do about this.

And I can't say anything else now because Lilly wants suggestions for this week's show. Michael's not allowed to comment anymore due to his suggestions always involving something that has to do with Star Wars and computers. Which might not be such a bad thing considering I like Star Wars, but, apparently, the greater part of New Yorkers who tune in for a fourteen year old's public access show (such as Norman) don't like it. Or computers.

I suggested the abuse of house pets. She said that Fat Louie would be featured.

I think we need to brainstorm some more.

* * *

><p><em>Monday, November 9, Assembly<em>

_**I am SO bored. How many anti-violence lectures can they give us?**_

I really have no idea. It's probably all because of Kenny.

_**Or maybe it's their way of taking away the rights of self-defense from faithful citizens of this nation, implementing government population control policies into the highly corruptible cerebral capacities of society's youth.**_

Lilly, I have no idea what you just said.

_**The government wants to turn America into a dictatorship.**_

Did you read 1984 last night? Or are you on crack?

_**No, I did not read 1984, and I am not on crack. I fully appreciate and respect my body. Plus, I accept my responsibilities of role model to the disillusioned people of New York City. Well, the ones with public access cable, anyone.**_

I feel like Karen Smith from Mean Girls.

_**Mia, your boobs do not make you psychic.**_

Yeah, I have none.

_**Will you **_**please**_** stop complaining?**_

...

_**Want to make another list?**_

Why not?

_**Lilly Moscovitzes' List of the Best Female Characters in Film **_(With commentary by Mia Thermopolis)

_**1) Jo from Little Women: This classic story has been remade in film time and time again. The bottom line- even when your best friend hates you and marries your sister (who threw your first finished manuscript in the fire), another sister dies, and your dad dies, life goes on and you can be a successful writer. **_(I really like the Winona Ryder version, because Christian Bale is the best Laurie of all time. And it teaches you to save your work elsewhere.)

_**2) Erin from Erin Brockovitch: By defying the stereotype that women are powerless, she defends her case and stops the widespread calamity started by PG&E. The real inspiration for the film is a true role model. **_(Julia did a really good job in this. And the whole story was TRUE!)

_**3) All the women from The Circle: Through many glimpses of oppression and inequality of Iran women, a shocking reality is seen in which girls treated like dirt. **_(This was in Persian and I couldn't find the subtitles. Though it was still moving, just watching it silently.)

_**4) Isabel from The Portrait of a Lady: Based on a 1881 novel, Isabel is a free, responsible woman who just may have inspired our Sister Suffragettes. She confronts her own destiny, while running around the world to visit various dying friends. **_(I have read the book, and I have no idea what the whole dream thing was about. It sort of scared me.)

_**5) Xiu Xiu from Xiu Xiu: The Sent Down Girl: Through her love of equestrian studies, a young Chinese girl is ordered to take control of an entire cavalry unit. Then, government oppression and corruption, she is deported to a remote mountainside. **_(This is basically Mulan in non-cartoon form. Except for all the explicit content, because I doubt Mulan would allow anyone to take advantage of her.)

_**6) Elizabeth and Susan from Not For Ourselves Alone: The Story of Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony: The complete story of the suffragettes, covering the Industrial Revolution onward. **_(One of my mom's favorite films of all time.)

_**7) Grace from Something to Talk About: Ladies, this is what you do when your husband cheats on you-tell everyone, yell and embarrass him. **_(Another winner for Julia!)

_**8) Sisters of '77: Another documentary chronicling the hardships that helped form our feminist values. **_(I was a little confused with this, but then I saw Billie Jean, Loretta, and Betty so I stayed. It was pretty good.)

_**9) Sam from Sixteen Candles: Even though everything goes wrong, she is control of her life and gets the guy. What feminism is about! **_(Everyone loves Molly Ringwald. Plus, it's a brat pack film.)

_**10) Antonia from Antonia's Line: She takes care of everyone and asks for nothing in return. **_(This reminded me of that book Emanuelle.)


	9. Chapter 9

_Still Monday, French_

Wow.

Well, that was...unexpected. I guess I don't have to worry about Dr. Tarlin anymore. And not just because my mom and Mr. G will be back soon. I guess Principal Gupta got an anonymous tip from someone that he was in the girls' locker room during lunch. When she went to investigate, she found him full on making out with Lana's older cousin, Whitney Robinson, who should have been in PE but was apparently too caught up in the moment to pay attention to minor things, such as her education.

Dr. Tarlin was fired on the spot. Also, I saw some cops going into Principal Gupta's office afterwards. But that might just be because one of Josh Richter's friends was caught with a bag of weed in his locker again.

Whitney ended up getting suspended for skipping class. They couldn't really do anything else, on account of her totally rich parents possibly suing the school, but I heard that she's transferring to Tribeca Alternative, which is pretty much AEHS's biggest rival school. I guess she thinks that it'll show us what we're missing out on. Whatever. I don't think anyone really cares. She's like an older, less-pretty version of Lana. Only she's mean to everyone and crashes all the popular parties. Even the ones held by freshmen or sophomores.

So, I guess it's not that big of a loss after all.

Anyway, in G & T Michael googled Dr. Tarlin, and may I say that he would have never been a teacher if anyone had thought to do that a couple of weeks ago? Apparently, last year, "Dr." Frank Tarlin had been busted by the NYPD for practicing medicine with a fake license. He had been working at a chiropractor's office in Brooklyn when he accidentally _paralyzed _ someone! He ended up getting shut down, and (somehow) ended up at Albert Einstein High School as a temporary Algebra and Geometry teacher.

Go figure.

I guess they can't find a sub for the rest of the week, so Principal Gupta will be teaching us. Which, if you think about it, isn't really so bad, on account of her being completely oblivious to anything that happens under her watch. Except for, you know, teacher-student relationships and weed. Also, she seems to notice if you share your codeine cough syrup with your best friend's brother with a migraine. But she never catches the jocks who throw paper airplanes during assemblies or the cheerleaders who show up to school drunk.

Plus, she might actually be a good teacher.

Though this would inevitably take away the review sessions in G&T with Michael that I so cherish, I am willing to sacrifice for the greater good. Namely, a better algebra grade the first time around.

But now here I am, in French, reveling in the fact that Mademoiselle Klein is blissfully oblivious to my writing in my d

**Je ne vais pas écrire dans mon journal pendant les classe de français.  
>Je ne vais pas écrire dans mon journal pendant les classe de français.<br>Je ne vais pas écrire dans mon journal pendant les classe de français.  
>Je ne vais pas écrire dans mon journal pendant les classe de français.<strong>

I swear Mademoiselle Klein, my writing was completely French related! Yes, it was in English, but isn't that the point of living in America?

* * *

><p><em>Later, in Bio<em>

Well, now that Dr. Tarlin's out, Kenny is apparently off of probation. Education-wise, I mean. Principal Gupta apologized for the "mix-up" and canceled his detentions. Personally, I think that he should have still gotten the detentions, because he _did _punch a teacher, after all. Or, at least, he tried to. Even if that teacher was a substitute who had yelled at me. And who, apparently, likes girls of the under-eighteen age group.

And now Kenny, who should have been taking notes, has read that last paragraph. He looks a little angry. But he says, "I know what I did was wrong, but I can't help it if I feel the urge to protect the princess if my heart."

So I am now shielding my words from his prying eyes. My face is all red, of course, but I don't think anyone is really surprised. I really need to stop blushing, because if I don't, my complexion will slowly turn to bright red, like King Hubert's in the Disney version of Sleeping Beauty when he got drunk. And then, I will be a disgrace to Genovians and Americans alike and will have to wear around a veil as to not show my face and be shunned by society! And, like Barbara Streisand in that movie Yentl, if I ever do manage to get married despite my reluctance to show my face, when I reveal my true nature to my husband, he will scream and call me a witch!

I AM NOT A WITCH! AND I DON'T LIKE VEILS, ANYWAY!

Then the only one who would love me would be Kenny. And I think I have already thoroughly debunked that whole possibility. Meaning that we are not meant to be.

In other words:

Mia + Kenny ≠ True Love.

Or anything close, really. Only he doesn't seem to have realized that yet.

Well, Mr. Showalter, wake up and smell the freaking roses, because you and me? Yeah, _so_ not perfect for each other. And we will never be, no matter what you do to try and change that.

* * *

><p><em>Still in Bio<em>

Wow. I just realized that in my last entry, I actually used something from algebra in real life. That is really surprising, especially considering my hatred and general confusion concerning the subject.

Mr. G would be so proud.

* * *

><p><em>Even later, the limo, going from the Plaza to Shameeka's house to spend the night<em>

Kenny showed up again. Only this time, he didn't sing love songs from the courtyard.

No, he came up to Grandmere's suite. During princess lessons.

For "moral support".

_Can_ my life get any worse?

Grandmère was surprisingly okay with the whole situation, considering her beauty sleep was _seriously_ interrupted by him only a week before. She only sniffed and asked him if he was in any way related to any royal family. Plus, she asked him to prove himself worthy of being my consort once, but he was totally fine with it. Even though, right next to him, I was trying to somehow get the ground to swallow me whole.

But he might not have noticed that, now that I think about it. Because he was too busy smiling and saying, "Well, I don't think anything, even the requirements of being a consort to the future queen of Genovia, will separate Mia and I."

When he says these sort of things, I almost wish he would just say the L word. To, you know, get it over with. Because I'm pretty sure he wants to. Say the L word, I mean. Because "princess of my heart"? And midnight (well, okay, it was early morning, but still) serenades? Yeah, they are completely worse than the L word, on account of them being full out cheesy (albeit romantic) gestures.

But what would I say, even if he did use it? Thank you, you are very kind? According to Grandmère's etiquette test from October, no, that is _not_ what you say. Should I just say, "I know," à la Han Solo in the Empire Strikes Back? Kenny might find that offensive. Or, he might think that I am in some way applauding his (inner?) geek and start making references to Star Trek and John Hughes movies with every sentence. Not to say that I don't do the same (to a lesser extent, of course), but this isn't me. This is Kenny. My _boyfriend_, for whom I feel nothing more than friendship and a general desire not to see anything bad happen to, Kenny.

Whatever. Grandmère just blinked and said, "Well, I cannot think of a better situation in which Amelia could have a preview of life with a consort." And so we practiced, for an hour and a half, standing up, walking, waving, eating, and at which height he should stand when in a throne room. (Any height shorter than mine, of course. Although, as I stand 5'9", he doesn't really have much of a problem.)

And yes, it was completely and utterly humiliating. This _is_ Grandmère we're talking about. But the worst part by far was Kenny's perseverance. Any thoughts/hopes/dreams that I had about Kenny possibly being scared away by the speaking French and the tattooed eyeliner and Rommel, the furless wonder, were thrown out the window. Kenny made it _quite_ clear that he was perfectly content with his role as second in command.

And if it was any other boy, I would be ecstatic.

But this is _Kenny Showalter_. _Kenny _tried to kiss me when he thought Grandmère wasn't looking. _Kenny_ followed me around like a undercover cop about to bust a drug trafficking ring. _Kenny _said, "I'll be back..." when he left.

Seriously? WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIM?

I'll tell you what's wrong with him: he thinks he's in love with me. And, just like the movie, he thinks that _I'm _ in love with him, and that is completely "irresistible".

Right now, if running back to the Abbey was an option, I'd take it. But I don't think Grandmère would let me.


	10. Chapter 10

_Tuesday, November 10, The Loft, 4:02 AM_

THEY'RE BACK!

MY MOM AND MR. G ARE BACK FROM MEXICO!

They tried to not make a big production out of it, but they called Lars, who, standing outside of my bedroom at the Plaza (Sometimes, I think Lars is some type of robot who requires no sleep at all, because he never seems to stop watching out for my would-be assassins. Not that I'm complaining, or anything. I just hope he never obeys the commands of a Jedi-turned-evil-lord-of-the-Sith), knew that every night spent in Grandmère's suite, even if I'm not in close enough range to hear her rock-concert-worthy snores, drives me closer to permanent insomnia. So he just knocked on the door and said, "Princess, pack your bags." In twenty minutes, I was home.

Home!

I've missed this place SO MUCH! I missed Ronnie and the fire escape and my room and the leftovers from Number One Noodle Son in the refrigerator (Not that they've been there that long, on account of my mother having ordered them the second she got off the plane at JFK so it would be hot and ready when they got back to the loft. She really needs to start monitoring her saturated fat intake. I mean, my little brother or sister will be born in approximately six months, and as she enters her second trimester, the baby will develop a taste for those foods she eats most. This, according to her diet, will be meat, Chinese food, and more meat, which is completely unhealthy and will promote poor eating habits in said child.) and the foosball table and the giant mural of Madonna on the wall in the kitchen. Fat Louie is happy to be back, too. He's even ignoring the squirrel, a first for him, and just checking on his treasure pile behind the toilet.

And guess what?

**MY MOM IS STARTING TO SHOW!**

I'm serious, if you look at her stomach, you can see that a bit of a bump has started to form there. When I commented on this fact (after saying hello, of course!) my mom just looked at me and said, "Well, Mia, it's nice to see that you have eyes!" and stormed off to her room. Mr G. said that she's been self-conscious of the bump since she noticed it and not to take it seriously. He blames pregnancy hormones. I said that I didn't take it to heart, and that if this was her at three months, how much worse would it get?

He just looked at me with tired eyes, said, "Goodnight, Mia," and went into his room.

Well, I guess it _was_ a long flight, after all.

* * *

><p><em>Later, in Algebra<em>

Okay, I might have ended up getting three whole hours of sleep, but I am still _dead_ tired. Mr. G was smart; he took a day off. I, on the other hand, am stuck in math with Principal Gupta. Which would be fine, except for the fact that she is a self-professed "geometry person" (meaning that she never even understood algebra in the first place), and I am officially more lost than before.

Even though I didn't really understand it with Mr. G, I NEED HIS HELP!

Well, Michael helps, too. But he said that he can only help me through this week because of some project he has to work on for the Computer Club. So, I can't really bother him with my troubling algebra grade for much longer.

Plus, finals are in, like, a month, and next semester I might not even _have_ Mr. G for algebra.

Whoa, scary thought. Because, who else would take the time to go over every single example problem in the lesson, every day, just to help me get a passing grade?

And, okay, Mr. G _is_ my stepfather now. But what if he has no time? If it's all spent between my mom's mood swings and paying the electrical/water bills on time and the new baby and making sure the delivery boy from Number One Noodle Son gets a fair tip, when will I learn algebra?

**I am officially doomed.**

Lilly just looked over at my last sentence and rolled her eyes, saying, "Get over it, POG, I'm sure he'll request you next semester."

To which I replied, "They can do that? And what the heck does POG mean?"

She says, "Of course they can. And princess of Genovia, of course!"

I said, "Oh. And don't call me that!"

"Whatever. POG."

I guess some things never change.

I mean, sure, next year I'll be getting a new little brother or sister, and, yeah, I will eventually rule a small European country called Genovia, and I may or may not fail algebra (not that I'll ever USE it, because it's not like the queen of England will be all, "Yo, figure out the value of x if 3x is less than or equal to the value of 67-4x or I'll bomb your country, bitch!" Because, really, I doubt she'd ever talk like that anyway, and algebra equations are why there are court mathematicians. At least, I hope they are.), but for now, everything's going to be alright.

Except the Kenny situation. I have no clue how I'm going to handle that.

But I'll get to that when I need to. For now, I guess it's kind of nice to have someone who cares about me.

_You have me, POG._

Yes, Lilly, I know I have you. And I have Tina. And my mom, and Mr. G. And your brother's even being nicer to me. Sometimes.

And don't call me POG!

_Bell rang. See you at lunch?_

Wouldn't miss it for the world.

* * *

><p>It's done!<p>

Honestly, I could have probably continued this story for a while longer, but (seeing as I am not Meg) I doubt I could have done this fanfic, and the Princess Diaries series, justice. Most likely, I'll be revising this chapter; making it a bit longer and making it all flow better.

This fic is really important to me. If my Princess Academy fic, Eskel's Flower, was my baby, then this is it's older, independent teenage sister. I started writing this back in November (when the story takes place) because I was going to test my patience and read each Princess Diaries book in real time. (Obviously, since I have next to no self control, I failed.) I was bored, which is usually the start of something that makes an entertaining party tell. In this case, it was the start of more adventures for Mia Thermopolis.

I know I haven't been very vocal concerning this story, or commmunicating through author notes. I have gone through so much while uploading _A Princess Predicament, _particularly due to the death of my grandmother. These months have been trying, and this fanfic has really been my anchor to reality and normalcy. I thank you for givng me that.

I tried to make this sound as true to Meg's style as I could. I looked up minute details in each of the books. I added in a reference to another of Meg's works (props if you caught it). And I sincerely hope every reader enjoyed this story. I am grateful for each and every person who reviewed, favorited, and added _A Princess Predicament_ to his or her story alerts list. I would like to thank you all for your support, in particular I thank imlost424, CookieMonster960, anon, crazy4fanfic2008, A Person, babae07, Crystel22, live4dance, Usagii-chan, and PurpleFlygon.

You are all wonderful. Thanks for reading _The Princess Diaries, Volume II and 1/2: A Princess Predicament._

~IceCreamGurl6455

*If you are bored and would like to read a truly wonderful PD fanfic, I recommend _The Princess Bride_ by MissMadi.*


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